If air could choke, I choked on it. A pathetic spluttering noise as I, somehow, was surprised by my mother's directness. She'd never shown an inclination of hesitation before. I don't know why there would be any now.  

"I'm sorry?" Ella had the grace to ask. While my mother had heavily implied before that she didn't altogether approve of our ‘distracting friendship’, she'd never outright told her she was bothering me. "I'm afraid I don't understand." 

My mother crossed her arms and made the expression she did whenever she was trying to be gentle. If that word even existed in her world. I knew she didn't blame Ella for her situation. Who could? No more than we could be blamed for my father leaving. But she also wasn't the type to let someone else drag her--or me, I suppose--down. Sometime after I was born it had become ‘us’ versus ‘them’ in my mother’s eyes, and Ella had never become one of ‘us’.  

"Mother, this is inappropriate." I sputtered out as I hastily stuffed the handkerchiefs into my bodice. While my mother might not be yelling, the truth was Ella wasn’t hers to scold and correct. Especially with everyone watching. Though everyone was pretending not to. To no surprise, I was ignored. It was like I hadn’t said anything at all. Even Ella didn’t look at me. 

"Esther doesn't have the self-restraint to focus on the work we have to do now.” My stomach squirmed at the way my mother twisted the blame around. She managed to insult and blame me while making it Ella’s responsibility. “I'm not blaming you for what she's lacking, but you might actually listen to some reason." I was nauseously mortified and more than that, I was ashamed. There was definite hurt in Ella's eyes. Neither of us expected such a severe reaction from my mother. I'm sure it was because she was beginning to feel the pressure of all the commissions but still... 

What could I say when my mother just ignored me? What age would be old enough that she would relent even an inch? 

"If I said to stop it, would it matter?" Both of them looked towards me as I said it. I think I sounded more defeated than anything. More sure than ever that I had to get Ella out of this hateful village.

"Don't use that tone with me, young lady," my mother replied. "I'm only doing what's best for you." 

There was a good chance she’d slap me if I told her she wasn’t. A tension grew between my mother and I. It had been growing since she’d set down the letter with some pleasure and purpose. I’d always figured she’d envisioned a certain future for me. But the truth that there was no room for happiness in it, or what I actually wanted, just made me angry. 

“Why-” I intended to ask my mother why she didn’t want me to have anything. But the hurried galloping of horses stopped everyone’s chatter. 

The more and more familiar insignia of the royal family flopped about in the wind and momentum. With the way the banner fluttered, it sort of looked like the griffin was beating its wings. A man wearing a red tunic and a red-brown fur cloak led the force of three horses. Knights sat on the back two, each holding a tall banner. As though we would somehow forget what kingdom we lived within. 

There was not a true central plaza of our market, but the closest was next to a worn stage where plays for festivals, and the like was enacted. Once, it’d been used to sentence a thief as well. The leading man bade his horse to stop there. Either by chance or he had a good eye. 

“Hear ye, hear ye! An imperative decree has arrived from His Majesty.” He shouted out in a voice that seemed confident in projection. I could hear him clearly despite being across the market from him. Everyone else had stopped what they were doing to listen as well. We rarely got decrees or anything of the sort from the people who ruled our lands. Once, there had been a warning of a wildfire from the north. Then another time a similar messenger had shown everyone the drawing of a wanted man accused of treason. It was rarely anything good, so everyone was silent in anticipation. "The royal astrologer has read the patterns of the earth and foreseen a drought in this area spreading to the immediate three villages…”

His voice droned on into a buzz as I slowly circled around my mother. With her attention stolen, I tugged at Ella’s sleeve. She yanked it back away from me with a sulking twist of her lips.

“You should listen,” She whispered. Her eyes were on my mother, likely worried about catching her attention again. 

“We’ve had droughts before,” I whispered back. Because the natural rivers were our source of fresh water, and no lakes were nearby, dry seasons could be rough for us. One of the farmers had told me that the rivers used to be deeper than just our ankles and that when he was young, they weren’t able to find and pick up stones like we can now. 

“… And until the regular water levels are restored…” 

With one last glance at my mother, Ella effortlessly stepped away. My mother pinched at my arm, but I broke away after Ella anyway. I was already in trouble; what was a little more piled onto it.

People from the whole market had gotten closer to hear the messenger, so I had to weave between them before I caught back up to Ella. When I was within reach, it seemed like she’d expected me to be there and dodged away. Every time her eyes turned to me lately, they seemed to be stormier. 

“You shouldn’t be following me," she said and didn’t slow her gait. 

“I shouldn’t ever be following you technically.” In fact, I believe her stepmother had strictly forbidden me from spending time with her years ago. Not for any reason other than spite. The fact that now my mother had practically forbidden it as well just meant they had something in common. But we’d never been the type to heed commands such as those. 

Ella didn't seem to find my reply amusing. "You shouldn't upset your mother right now. She already seemed furious." Furious enough to say something to her, that is.  

I could have played the back and forth with her all day. But I had bigger concerns. 

"Did that merchant, Auden, tell you to go to the witch?" 

One of her eyebrows shot up at my question as she looked back at me. I don't think that's what she expected me to say. 

"What? The witch? You mean Old Maggie?" While we'd talked at length as children about the possibility of magic and witches and wishes, I don't think I actually knew what Ella thought of Old Maggie. I didn't know if she thought she had real magic or not. "What are you talking about?" 

For once in my life, I was worried that Ella might lie to me. I knew she'd tell me small lies all the time. The sort that was meant to assuage my worry. Like the bruises didn't hurt or that she'd eaten a full dinner. That she was fine. But I didn't know if she'd lie about something important with the same ease. 

"Did he ask you to bring anything to the--to Old Maggie." When had I started just calling her the witch? 

"No? Why? Did he ask you to?" 

My pace faltered somewhat as I slowed to rub my eyes. Spending my nights sewing and running off to secretly go to Ella's window was starting to take its toll. It felt like I was being talked into circles with everyone I asked a question to. Everyone's words were making me dizzy. 

"Can you please just tell me the truth?"

"Excuse me?" Ella abruptly stopped and I almost slammed my entire body into her. We were close enough for our noses to touch. Strands of her hair tickled at my face. "Esther, what has been wrong with you lately? This isn't like you."

It wasn’t even something that I could blame her for seeing. I wasn’t so sure of myself lately either. I looked down, away from her, and reached out just enough to gently hold the ends of her hair in between my fingers. It felt soft and delicate. Was it such a terrible thing that I wanted to treat her like she was delicate when no one else did? She didn’t move and I wished there was a way that I could know what she was thinking without asking. That there was someway I could see inside her thoughts without ever revealing the flaws of my own. The fears I’d never talked about and how selfish I had become when I looked at her. It made me feel frantic when I looked at what I was becoming—or what I could become if I didn’t get her out of here. 

“I think I’ve gone a little mad,” I said and laughed thinly. The edges of my eyes burned at the words. I wrinkled my nose to keep tears back, determined not to cry in front of her.

When I stopped talking, I could hear the both of us breathing. Even the sounds of the village seemed to just vanish. 

“I don’t understand what changed,” Ella said quietly. “And you’re not telling me everything.”

Nothing at the tip of my tongue seemed right when I tried to muster them out. I tugged one of the handkerchiefs out and she let me tie it around her wrist. It was a simple white linen that I had embroidered red coneflowers onto surrounded by ferns. At the time, I’d thought the red and fern green contrasted pleasantly. Now, it seemed like a waste to try and sell it. 

Maybe it was an apology, maybe it was a promise, or even a request for something. Trust, denial, or affection. Everything was changing. It had been before the ball was ever announced. The prince had come of age, but the real truth was that so had we. Marriage hung over all of our heads as the ultimate death of childhood. Why had they told us so many stories of love and destiny and happiness if they didn’t want us to actually believe in it? 

“Sorry, I have to go now,” I said, and I felt damned. “Sorry.”